theferrett

Nov. 22nd, 2011

Nov. 22nd, 2011

There is a certain satisfaction that comes from selling the unsalable story. Which is to say that when you write a 7,000-word erotica story dealing with the BDSM relationship between a girl and a brain in a jar, you’re pretty sure you’re not going to find a home for it.

(The brain is the Dom.)

…damn if I didn’t, though. “Rooms Formed of Neurons and Sex” just sold to GUD Magazine, which also published my girl-in-a-junkyard story “In The Garden of Rust and Salt.” This puts GUD on my happy-list ratio of 100% submissions-to-acceptances, along with Beneath Ceaseless Skies. (You don’t want to know what my Asimov’s ratio is, and my batting average with many other major markets is zero, just for perspective.)

The title may change, as they’re wondering whether it’s fitting, but the opening line won’t:

“The greatest tragedy of Lydia’s life was when she broke her boyfriend during sex. Admittedly, he was a brain in a jar, but she’d been trying to make do….”

At World Fantasy, I was talking about my intense work habits, and how poor Gini had to deal with me vanishing downstairs to a darkened basement for an hour and a half every day to write. And someone quipped, “You SAY you’re writing.”

To which I replied, “It’d be easier for her if I was masturbating. At least then I wouldn’t be calling her downstairs when I was done to go, ‘Can you take a look at this? Am I doing this right?’”